


Role Models

by cranialaccessory



Category: Captain America (2011), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Bechdel Test Pass, Bisexual Character, Child Abuse, Drama, F/F, F/M, Feminism, Genderswap, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Character, No one dramatically screams "Stella" sorry, Peril, Rule 63, Stony - Freeform, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cranialaccessory/pseuds/cranialaccessory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stella knows how labor-intensive Stark’s hairstyle is, and how long it takes to put on makeup. Howard might’ve been vain and self-centered, but he’d never put his personal appearance before a mission. “If we’re going to be working together,” Stella says, “I want you to take things other than your appearance seriously.”</p><p>Stark’s smile is even more brittle, this time around. “Thanks for the tip, Mom. It’s good news that we won’t really be working together much, then, isn’t it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stella Rogers loves to read the newspaper. She doesn’t always understand it, but mama always sits at the table with her paper on the weekend, and that seems terribly adult. So when mama and her walk past the newspaper shop on the way to school, Stella lingers over the newsprint.

The pictures aren’t as colorful as the ones in the comic books, but sometimes they show something exciting like a car crash or an airplane. She’s drawn, naturally, to a printed photo of a man in a leather jacket with a wide smile standing next to a plane. Stella holds the paper close to her face to read, careful not to smudge it with her fingers.

“Mama, what does transaltanic mean?” Stella asks. Her mother turns away from the newspaper man, even Stella knows they don’t have much money, but mama still likes to buy a stick of gum for the sick kids at the hospital. 

“What is it, dear?” Mama asks, and Stella holds the paper towards her.

“You say that word Trans-Atlantic, dear.” She says. “It means that woman, Amelia Earhart, flew across the Atlantic Ocean, all the way to England.”

Stella stares at the photo with a newfound reverence. Stella loved planes, everyone did, she and Bucky used to run down to the river to watch them take off from Queens. 

“She flew?” Stella repeats. 

“You have to put it back now, honey.” Mama says, and Stella runs her fingers over the plane’s propeller once before she places it back on the pile.

“Wait, go ahead and take it, kid.” The newspaper man says. “If that’s alright with you, ma’am.”

Mama nods and says “Thank you.” Stella grabs it off the pile, quick, before mama can change her mind.

“Don’t worry about it.” The newspaper man says. “A girl needs a role model, you know.”

Mama takes Stella’s hand, even though Stella’s too old for that, really, and they walk the rest of the way to school. Stella clutches the photograph of Amelia, short haired and smiling, to her chest.

 

The first time Stella gets in the cockpit of a plane, it’s Schmidt’s rocket. The irony would make her laugh, she’d tell Peggy but the radio just shorted out. She hopes no one else was listening, it won’t matter for her, really, but it might make life more difficult for Peggy. Stella hopes no one would be that heartless, but the army doesn’t look kindly on queers.

Stella hasn’t thought about Amelia Earhart in years, really, but in the seconds that feel like hours, when the white expanse of ice fills her vision, Stella wonders if this is what she felt as the glass blew inwards and icy water poured in around her and there was nothing but drowning and dark.

*****

Stella doesn’t expect to wake up, but she does. And she finds out that the world keeps on turning.

“So, you know, I’m from Brooklyn too.” Coulson says to Stella. They’re standing on the deck of what Fury calls the Helicarrier, and Stella finds the constant, ordered flurry of military activity deeply (and existentially) comforting. 

“Really? Where?” Stella asks. She hopes some questions will put him at ease. Interacting with admirers was never really her strong suit.

“Midwood, just on Avenue J. The area’s changed a lot. Hipsters everywhere.”

“Hipsters? Like, jazz fans?” 

“No, not like that.” Coulson says. “Kids in skinny jeans, with ironic t-shirts.”

“Ah.” Stella says. She’s found it a convenient answer, when she has no idea what is going on. She’s been using it a lot, lately. There’s a pause, for a moment, one that Coulson rushes to fill.

“I just wanted to say.” He starts, then checks himself. “This is completely unprofessional, and please don’t hold it against the Agency. I just wanted to express how much of an honor it is, to work with you.” He pauses. “You were a hero of mine, when I was a kid.”

“I was?” It’s boggling to think that this 40-year-old would’ve grown up knowing about Stella, but it’s even stranger to think that she would mean something to him. 

“I was never the most normal kid. It was nice, to have a hero to look up to that was also, kind of, different.” He continues, hurried. “Not to say that you were weird, or anything, just… I’ll stop talking now. But I’m a big fan. My cellist, too, really.”

“Cellist?” Stella wonders if this is some new future slang.

“My boyfriend. He’s a cellist.” Coulson clarifies. “He would never admit it, but he’s got a replica shield in the back of the closet.”

“Ah.” Stella says.

*****

“I had him on the ropes!”

“Sure you did,” Bucky says, and steers Stella out of the alleyway. “One of these days, Stel, you’re gonna pull this on a fella who will actually hit a lady.”  
Stella doesn’t tell Bucky that she has, a few times, because she doesn’t think he’d like it, and its trouble enough already covering up her bruises. “If he’s such a gentlemen that he won’t hit me, how come he’s beating up colored kids half his size? How come he’s scared to get into an argument with a girl?”

Bucky sighs, and pulls Stella into an alcove. “I didn’t say what he did was right.”

Stella shivers, it’s getting late and her stockings are worn through. But she can’t begrudge the rationing, not when it’s helping the boys overseas. Besides, it’s a good excuse to wear trousers, when she can get away with it. Bucky shrugs off his jacket and holds it out, waiting for her to take it.

“It’s not fair.” She reaches out and grabs the jacket, and swings it over her shoulders.

“No, it’s not fair.” Bucky says, and Stella notices the jacket sitting on her shoulders for the first time. It’s heavy, and green, with a flattering longer cut. Her heart drops, enough that Stella’s surprised she can’t see it mixed in with the litter on the cement.

“Bucky…” For the first time since he barged into the alleyway, Stella actually looks him over. He’s wearing a pressed button-down shirt and tie, creased pants, and a brimmed cap. An army uniform. “Bucky, you finally…”

Bucky grins, and spreads his arms to show off his finery. Stella is impressed, there’s not a single hole in the shirt. “I’m glad you finally noticed.”

Stella laughs, and when she smiles, it’s mostly genuine. “You got your orders. When do you ship out?”

“Next week.” Bucky lowers his arms, and has the good graces to look sheepish.

“Next week?” Stella says, horrified. She should be happy for him, she knows, he’s wanted this for so long. But it hurts, to think that he’ll be so far away, fighting for his country and his city, risking everything, while Stella waits at home. She volunteers, of course, running scrap drives and growing victory gardens. But anything in the world could happen to Bucky. “So soon? Where are they sending you?”

“I’ll be going through training first, then over to Europe, probably. That’s where we’re needed most.” He shrugs, and sees the eight-year-old boy she chased around the legs of the El. She can’t imagine him like one of the wounded soldiers she sees when she volunteers at the hospital, broken or empty or in agony. She’s able to imagine it, but she can’t.

“It isn’t right.” Stella says. 

“I didn’t get drafted, Stella.” Bucky says. “I chose this, I want to go, really, I do.”

“No, it’s not…” Stella trails off. “I should be going.” 

Bucky smiles, and he doesn’t laugh, and Stella kind of loves him for it, she always has. “To be honest, Stella, you’d make one hell of a soldier.” His expression darkens. “But I can’t say I’m broken up that you can’t come with me.”

“Bucky…” Stella starts, it’s an old argument.

“I know you’re tough, Stella, you’ve got more spirit than anyone else I know. But it’s not right, to put a woman in danger like that. There are things…physical things, that women just can’t do. And if we get to the point that women are laying down their lives…”

“There are men laying down their lives already, Bucky!” Stella pulls away from him. “I got no right to do any less than them.”

Bucky sighs, and Stella feels awful. She should be celebrating with him, and supporting him, now that he’s about to leave. That would be the proper thing to do, to send him letters and cookies from home, and knit him a sweater - to sit and wait and watch bullies like Hitler take over the world and screw it up even worse than it already was. But Stella isn’t like other girls, she isn’t weak, and feminine, and useless. It makes her want to scream, until someone will listen to her, will believe her. But, as she already learned, screaming rarely convinces anyone of anything. Action does. “I sent another application to the WASPs, today.”

Bucky cocks his head. “I thought you already tried them.”

“I did.” Stella shrugs. “I though I’d try again. My eyesight isn’t so bad, really, and what does asthma hurt, when you’re sitting in a plane?”

Bucky shakes his head and smiles. “You won’t ever give up, will you?” He still doesn’t laugh at her, and it’s not that much, really, but it means the world.

“I could do this all day.” Stella says, and returns Bucky’s coat. Stella doesn’t mind the cold.

*****

SHIELD’s given her an overview, of the important social and political changes since 1945, but there’s a difference between reading something and seeing it firsthand. The technology of the helicarrier was amazing in itself, but it was almost more so to stand on the bridge and see so many women working together with the men, equally and openly. And even taking command. Nick Fury had certainly earned his ten dollars.

“Captain, you’re up.” Fury says.  
“We’ll be doing an airdrop into Stuttgart.” Maria Hill adds, finger placed on a communication device in her ear. “We’ll be Romanov in with you for our strike team.”

Stella takes an instant to revel in the strangeness in it, taking orders from a female CO (well, she’s not positive that Hill is technically her CO, but she’s certainly giving orders), orders to take an all-female strike team in to engage with a threat. There isn’t long to revel, however, Stella and Natasha are hurrying off to get suited up. Stella hasn’t seen the new Captain uniform yet, and Coulson’s insistence that he helped design it isn’t easing her concerns.

“So, your uniform…” Stella starts to say. She hasn’t spoken to Romanov, much, but she seems the quiet, fiercely competent type. Stella likes that. “Is it standard? For all SHIELD agents?”

“To an extent.” Romanov says. “We’re allowed some customization, to personal preference.”

“I mean, are they the same, for men and women?” Stella says.

Romanov pauses, and Stella thinks that she understands. “SHIELD tries to make their uniforms gender-neutral, as much as possible. Female agents in high heels and miniskirts aren’t as effective in combat situations.” She smiles. “At least, not most combat situations. Your suit was made with an emphasis on mobility and protection, not sex appeal.”

Stella starts at her abruptness. She knows that Romanov is a spy, and she’s not naïve. Many of the female operatives she had worked with during the war used their skills, whatever they were, to get information from the enemy. Stella admires that, but it’s never been her path. “I appreciate that. You should’ve seen some of the outfits that they proposed for me, during the war. Wouldn’t have stopped a well-placed breeze, let alone a knife.”

“Oh trust me, I have seen them.” Romanov says, with a smirk. “Coulson has your trading cards, remember?” She draws to a stop in front of a door. “Your gear is in here.”

Stella walks into the room and opens the glass case. The suit’s light but strong, made of some tough fabric Stella doesn’t recognize, with additional thick padding in vulnerable areas. The boots fit perfectly, and the star lies flat and even on her chest. Most importantly, her shield is there. The familiar weight on her arm feels so right, she can’t help her smile.

*****

“Stage fright, kid?”  
Stella nods, terse. She’s spent three hours in hair and makeup, three hours dreading the moment that she would step onto that stage. She’s not feeling particularly chatty. 

“Don’t worry about it.” The stagehand continues, and he gives Stella a sweep with his eyes, taking in her padded bustier, short, spangled skirt, and long expanse of stockinged leg. “You’ve got plenty of… talent.” Stella wants to hit him with her prop shield, but instead she reviews the notes tapes to it one last time. 

“I may not be able to storm a beach, or drive a tank, but there’s still a way all  
of us can fight.” She mouths, and thinks of Bucky. “And my best guys all buy Series E Defense Bonds, so that they can get men home to their sweethearts.” The words feel bitter on her tongue.

“How ‘bout, after the show, we go get a drink?” The stagehand asks, with a leer. “You could spangle my stars, if you like.”

“If you harass me, or any of the other chorus girls, again, I will make sure you can’t work in this state.” The curtain rises, and Stella strides onto the stage. Her heels are high, but she doesn’t wobble. She’s been trained for this.

*****

It feels good to get back into combat as well, to know that a punch is still a punch, even 70 years in the future. Even if the punches don’t seem to be doing much to Loki. Stella deflects a hit from him, mindful of the crowd of civilians still in the area. Loki lands blow and knocks Stella to her knees. 

“Kneel.” Loki hisses, and boy, has Stella heard too many iterations of that joke over the years.

“Not today.” Stella rises with a kick that knocks Loki off-balance. 

Stella’s back on her feet, but another hit sends her flying. She’s planning her best route to retrieve her shield when noise bursts from the helicopter, something Stella’s not sure is music or some sort of defense mechanism. She turns skyward, and sees a figure streak across the sky. There’s a blast, Loki goes flying, and the figure hits the ground with a crash.

Stella was told that Iron Woman used a suit of armor, but hardly seems right. It doesn’t look like it’s built for war - it’s showy; gaudy and red, with exaggerated hips and a slender waist that somehow convey sex appeal through layers of metal. She looked more like the machine-woman from Metropolis than a warrior. Stella feels a bite of disappointment, she thinks back to every Army official who tried to get her to wear a skirt into combat, or a breastplate with an emphasis on the breast. She hoped they were past this.  
“Make a move, reindeer games.” Iron Woman says, weapons level at Loki, and Stella moves to her side. Loki raises his hands in surrender.

“Good move.” She says, and briefly nods at Stella. “Captain.”

“Miss Stark.” Stella says, as the helicopter lands behind them. Romanov runs out with a pair of heavy-duty handcuffs, and the three of them hustle the man into the copter.

“Well, that was easy.” Iron Woman says. “I don’t know why you guys even bothered to ask me in.”

“Miss Stark…” Stella turns towards the woman and hesitates. She’s removed her helmet, and she’s older than Stella expected, older than Howard was when she saw him last, nearly 40. She looks like him, with the same cheekbones and smirking smile, but her hair is long, elaborately curled, and she’s wearing immaculately applied makeup. “Miss Stark,” Stella continues, cold. “It’s a good thing we didn’t need your help, since you barely managed to show up at all.” 

“It’s a long trip from New York, Cap.” Stark smirks. “And the in-flight movie was terrible.”

Stella knows how labor-intensive Stark’s hairstyle is, and how long it takes to put on makeup. Howard might’ve been vain and self-centered, but he’d never put his personal appearance before a mission. “If we’re going to be working together,” Stella says, “I want you to take things other than your appearance seriously.”

Stark’s smile is even more brittle, this time around. “Thanks for the tip, Mom. It’s good news that we won’t really be working together much, then, isn’t it?”

*****

It’s a bit like elementary school, waiting outside of the classroom for the teacher to finish up and yell at you. Only this time, Stella’s not worried that they’ll call her mom at the hospital, but that they’ll throw her out of the army and put in her jail. And take her friends with her. Bucky’s likely to be safe, at least, they’re not likely to take their wrath out on a man sitting in the infirmary.

“Don’t look so glum.” Howard says, and he fishes a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “You’re a hero.”

Peggy snorts. “Yes, but she’s not the type of hero they’re interested in. There’s going to be trouble.”

Stella runs her hands through her hair. They’d made her grow it out, long and blond and carefully curled and primped before each USO show. She trimmed it short before she left. If she was going to die, she was going to die with hair she liked.

The door swings open, and Colonel Phillips, Senator Brandt and Brigadier General Howes sweep into the room. Stella and Peggy rise to their feet, Howard joins them an instant later, taking the time to finish lighting his cigarette.

“We’ve reached a decision.” Howes says. “Due to the…good nature of your infraction, there will be no need to court martial any of you.”

No one responds as they wait for the other shoe to drop.

“However, since Miss Rogers clearly lacks the emotional maturity necessary to be in proximity to the battlefield, she will conclude the rest of her USO tour in the states, and will not return to Europe for the duration of the war.”

“This will be great for your image, in the long term.” Brandt says. He seems as happy with the arraignment as a child on Christmas morning “Though we’ll have to put you in a wig, at least until your hair grows back.”

“Sir, permission to speak…” Peggy begins.

“As for you, Agent Carter.” Howes says, sharp. “If it were up to me, you’d be shipped back to England so fast it would make your head spin. But you are under the command of Colonel Phillips, and he would rather keep you in the field. Mr. Stark, you will return to your current position, though the cost of repairs to the plane will be deducted from your pay.” Howes seems satisfied that the issue has been resolved, but behind him, Colonel Phillips’ mouth is drawn in a thin line. “That will be all. Dismissed.”

Peggy turns to leave, but Stella feels rooted in place. She should be happy, to get out of trouble so easily. But not like this.

“Excuse me, sir.” Stella says. “But this isn’t the right thing to do.” The men halt in their tracks, and Peggy freezes beside her.

“Oh?” Howes says, voice tight. “Would you rather that we dishonorably discharged the lot of you?”

“No, sir.” Stella says “But there is no reason for you to remove me from combat duty, sir.”

“No reason? Are you blind, Miss Rogers?” Brandt says.  
“No, sir, I’m a super soldier.” Stella replies, fighting to keep her voice level. “This is what I was meant to do. I am the result of Erskine’s life’s work, and, to be frank, you are wasting it.”

“To be frank, Miss Rogers, we wouldn’t be wasting it if Erskine hadn’t been a damned fool and picked a woman as a test subject.” Brandt hissed. 

Stella burns with rage, she wants to hit him, wants to throw his through the window, but she can’t, and that burns too. “If you don’t want me as a soldier, I’m done. You can find yourself another can-can girl.”

Howes opens his mouth to intervene and Stella braces herself for the order, but to her surprise, it’s Howard that speaks next.

“Why don’t you make her a soldier?”

It’s silent, as everyone in the room focuses their attention on Howard. He pulls on his cigarette, building the tension. Stella almost laughs.

“She’s already proven that she’s able to pull off incredibly dangerous missions, and that’s without formal training. Get her some real combat gear, and she can take down Schmitt for sure.” He pauses for another draw. “Because that’s what’s really important, isn’t it. Beating the Nazis.”

Phillips’ mouth twitches into something like a smile, and Howard matches it with a smirk.

In the end, it takes half an hour more of arguing, and Howard has to threaten to quit, but Howes agrees to give Stella a unit of her own (“Composed of volunteers,” he specifies. “I won’t force any man to work with a woman.”) Peggy is nearly bouncing with glee, but Howard seems, for once, introspective.

“Thank you, Howard.” Stella says.

“Don’t.” Howard pulls out another cigarette, and offers one to Stella. “I only said the same things you were saying. It’s just that they listened to me, rather than you.” She takes the cigarette, and he bends over, lights it with the tip of his own. 

“Still, thank you for saying it.” Stella says. “A lot of people wouldn’t have.”

He snorts. “A lot of assholes, maybe.”

*****

She’s nothing like Howard, Stella thinks, as she argues with Stark in the lab. She’s never subscribed to the outdated chivalry of not hitting a woman, but she still tries not to pick on people smaller than her. And Stark, for all her bravado, is small and fragile without her suit.

“You’re not the person to make the sacrifice play. To lay down on the wire, and let the other man crawl over you. Especially not if there’s a chance it would mess up your hair.”

Stark freezes, and Stella wonders if she’s finally taking something seriously. “I think I would just cut the wire.” The bulk of what Stark doesn’t know, about sacrifice, about heroism, is astounding. She’s a child, playing dress-up in a million-dollar suit. She’s nothing like Howard, or Peggy, or Bucky, and she’s the direct result of Stella’s hard work to get women to be taken seriously as superheroes. Stella has to laugh, but it’s bitter.

“You may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.” Stella says.

 

Stella watches Stark race towards the portal, missile in hand. Stark and the nuke disappear into the whole in the sky, and Stella knows Stark saved her life, her city, even, but she can’t celebrate, it’s deja vu. She stands with Thor, eyes pinned to the sky, but there’s nothing.

“Close it.” She orders Natasha. She knows the two women are friends, to an extent, and no one deserves the guilt of a friend’s death, so she makes the order. The portal starts to close, and Stella doesn’t pray. God doesn’t dress like Thor and Loki, and He certainly isn’t going to listen to her. When she catches a glimpse of red and gold flying, falling, through the portal, she doesn’t hope. 

Banner snatches Stark from the air, and Stella runs to meet them, she kneels by the suit. Stark's not moving and there’s no way to get a pulse. Thor rips her faceplate off like the lid of the can and Stella leans close to her face to check her breathing. There’s no sign of it, but her lips are still red with lipstick, slightly smeared on the right side. 

Stella doesn’t think of their conversation, doesn’t think of Bucky, just tries not to think of anything as she lays her hand on Stark’s armor. Banner roars, and Stark jerks awake, scans the sky frantically. Her eyes land on Stella, and she relaxes visibly, leaning back into the suit. “Please tell me nobody kissed me.” She says, and Stella laughs.

*****

Stella admires Peggy from the first time they meet. She’s tough, and competent, and inspires respect in a way that Stella never thought possible. Not to mention, Stella may have 6 inches and 70 pounds on her since the serum, but she’s still on sure she could take Peggy in a fight. Peggy’s the type of person Stella’s always wanted to be. But some days, Stella wonders if what she’s feeling isn’t something different.

They’ve finished a run on a Hydra base, and Stella is aching for a shower and a fresh shirt. The locker room is nearly empty, a few WAC girls at the end of their shift remain, slipping out of their work clothes and reapplying makeup. 

“Peggy!” The tallest one smiles, looking up from adjusting her hose. “There’s a USO dance tonight, all us girls are going. You should come.”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Peggy demurs. “I’ve got work to do before our next drop.”

“You’ve got to come out with us eventually.” The tall girl says, and throws a wink. She leaves the locker room, and the rest of the WAC girls trail behind, touching up lipstick and sticking bobby pins as they go. Stella settles down on a bench next to Peggy and starts unlacing her boots in silence. Peggy’s at the mirror, wiping makeup from her face.

“Um, Peggy…” Stella starts and stops, awkward. “Why didn’t you go to the dance, with those girls?” Stella’s not the most comfortable person at dances; even before the serum made her taller and heavier than most of the men, she was the type to stick to the punch table; but Peggy seems like the type to enjoy a night out.

Peggy doesn’t say anything, so Stella continues. “I mean, if you don’t like dancing, that’s alright, I never really learned either…”

“I love to dance, Stella.” Peggy says, eventually. “But there are some things we can’t do.”

“What do you mean?” Stella stands, and joins her at the mirror.

Peggy sighs, not exasperated but weary, and pulls pins from her hair. “We spend the day trying to get our men to take us seriously, to treat us as something other than a novelty. To base our worth on our actions rather than their imaginations. And that work can be undone in an instant, if they see us in a dress, laughing over a drink. That’s all it takes to undo everything we’ve done.”

“But the other girls…”

“Exactly.” Peggy says. She turns to Stella and takes her by the hand. “We must do as much as we can to make them forget that we aren’t men. We can never be girls.”

Peggy turns back to the mirror but she leaves her hand in Stella’s. It hits her, like a flash, like a floodgate in her head, that she doesn’t want to be Peggy, she wants to hold Peggy, to press her up against her body and run her hands along her waist.

“I wish I could take you dancing.” It slips out before Stella has time to think.

“Maybe some day. I’d like that very much.” Peggy smiles, soft and sad, and kisses Stella on the lips.

*****

After the shwarma, Stella leads the team back to the helicarrier. Fury is still trying to get the council not to court marshal him, Thor leaves to guard his brother (and, Stella hopes, give him a serious talking-to), Bruce and the agents head back to their quarters. Stella would do the same, but she can never sleep after a fight. Instead, she heads to the deck of the craft, somewhere she can get a good look at the mostly-intact skyline. She doesn’t have a right to feel proud, really, but the team, her team, did so well today.

“It’s changed a lot, I suppose.”

Stella turns, and sees Stark standing behind her. She’s back to her usual, immaculately groomed self, though her arm is in a sling and her eyes are dark and tired.

“I thought they had you trapped in medical.” Stella replies.

“What, are you kidding me?” Stark snorts. “Half the software their machines run on is mine. I’m getting the armor back, flying back to my awesome, if partially demolished, tower, and pouring myself a very large drink.”

“Ah.” Stella says, and the silence drags out, but Stark doesn’t leave. “Look, Stark…”

“Don’t bother with the whole feelings jam.” She says, waving her uninjured hand. “We fought off crazy Galaga space aliens together, everything’s square.”

“Still.” Stella continues. “I wanted to apologize. For the things I said. I wasn’t right, and even if I was, that’s no excuse for treating you that way.”

“Cap, please, don’t even.” Tonya says. “It’s water under the bridge. I’ve heard way worse.” Her tone is flippant, but her eyes stay locked on the skyline. “A thick skin’s necessary, if you’re going to do what we do.”

“You mean, an armor?” Stella interjects.

“You said it, not me.” Tonya smirks. “Besides, you didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

That is so, astoundingly false that Stella goggles. “That’s not true, Tonya. You saved the city, saved millions of lives…”

“Almost got mind-controlled by Loki, leveled half of midtown…” Tonya adds with a smile. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“Well, I’m glad you were there.” Stella says. “It would be a shame if New York got destroyed, now, after all the trouble I went through in the 40’s.”

Tonya starts, and her wry expression drops for a second and softens. “The Red Skull’s plane.”

“You know about that?” Stella wasn’t sure what records of her final flight had survived, or been made public. It was possible that Stark had read about it in a history book. Which was a deep strange thought to consider. 

“Yeah, my dad.” Tonya said. “Sorry, I know you might not want to, I mean, he told me some stuff.” Tonya pauses, apologetic.

“Don’t apologize, it doesn’t bother me.” Stella lies. “It all seems so surreal, mostly.”

Tonya fiddles with the strap of her sling, and winces in pain as it jostles her arm. “He never stopped looking for you, you know. My dad. He had expeditions going out to the artic for years.”

“Oh.” Stella says. It’s humbling, to know that she was remembered, that people still cared. “That’s…thank you. For telling me.”

Tonya shakes her head. “It’s nothing, he’d be glad, though. That you’re back. And so am I, for what it’s worth.” Stark says, and smiles. It’s so odd, to see Howard’s features, expressions on a woman’s face. Though Stella has to admit, she’s prettier than Howard ever was.

As though she’s afraid of actually having an emotion, Tonya’s smile turns into a smirk. “If I’m gonna break out of SHIELD sometime tonight, I should get going.” Stark says, and hits a button on her wrist. There is pause, followed by a loud clanging noise, and the Iron Woman armor bursts through the floor of the carrier, leaving scraps of metal and wiring in its wake. It settles, gently, to the ground next to Tonya.

“They thought they’d keep it for ‘research and observation.’” Tonya snorts. “Though I’m not sure how the armor’s going to fit around my sling.” She hits a button on her wrist and the armor slides open, giving her leeway to climb inside. Stella watches, and tries not to let her mouth gape open – it’s like something out of a science fiction radio show.

“My eyes are up here, captain.” Tonya grins. As self-assured (self-assured being a nice word for ‘cocky,’ Stella admits) as Tonya is without the suit, she’s doubly so with it. 

“I just…It’s amazing.” Stella stutters. “Really, it’s like a work of art.”

“I love it when people complement my baby.” Tonya says, grinning. “I should get going, before Fury comes out here and hits me with a rocket launcher. When you’re free, stop by the tower, Bruce is staying over, we’ll make it a party. Should be easy enough to find, big modern monstrosity, says STARK on the side. Or, it used to, no idea what letters are left, I’ll have to fix that…” Tonya starts to fire up her repulsers, but Stella puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Before you go,” Stella says, “I wanted to thank you. And apologize, again. We make a good team.” Stella holds out her hand. Stark looks at it for a moment, and extends her own, metallic one. Stella takes it and is surprised by the weight, and the slight warmth of the reactor. 

“Anytime, Cap.” Tonya says, and takes off into the night. Stella watches her glow into the distance for a minute, before Fury appears with a contingent of SHIELD agents and a very large gun.


	2. Chapter 2

Antonia Stark was never one for dolls. She’s been tinkering with engines and computer programming, anything she could take from Papa’s lab without him noticing, for nearly as long as she could walk. She knows that somewhere in the house is a closet full of barely-touched baby dolls and Cabbage-Patch Kids, gifts from relatives and business partners who pass through their twice-monthly dinner parties and pat her on the head. (Natasha was never one for dinner parties, either, but she grows into that.) She’s never one for dolls, but the Captain is different. She was a gift from Uncle Obie, for her fourth birthday. He handed her over, unwrapped, and Tonya ran her fingers over the doll’s blue jumpsuit, the shiny metal cap, and long, blonde curls.

“That’s Captain America, Annie.” Obie says to her, but he’s got his eyes on her dad. 

“Thought you might need a ‘positive female role model.’ And figured your dad’d get a kick out of it.” He slaps Howard on the back, and Ma rushes in to say something like “not entirely appropriate…” but Tonya only has eyes for the Captain, turning her back and forth. When she tips her baby dolls back, their eyes slide closed, weighted. But Tonya flips the Captain through the air, and her eyes stay open, and blue.

 

Once, she asks her father about her captain. Howard looks almost baffled, the expression he usually wears when they speak. “She was a friend of mine. During the war.”

“What happened to her, Sir?” 

“She…she went missing. I’m still looking for her.”

“Oh!” Tonya says, and hugs her Captain closer. “I lost my captain when we went on the Belton’s yacht, but ma went back and got her for me.”

“That’s…that’s nice.” Papa turns back to his table, and resumes sketching. Tonya wants to ask him more about Captain America, and about the type of engine he’s designing, but she doesn’t say anything and walks back to her room. It will be nice when Howard finds the captain, she thinks. She’s sure that she’ll be fun, and strong, and take Tonya with her on all sorts of adventures. Maybe Ma would even let her live with them. It would be nice to have a friend to play with. Ma is nice, but she doesn’t think that half the things that Tonya does are “proper.” She thinks the captain might understand.

 

Her father travels a lot for work, so Tonya doesn’t always notice that he’s gone. But she pays attention, when Howard says he’s going on an expedition to the Arctic. Tonya stands with her Ma and watches Howard leave, cars loaded down with boxes of clothing and equipment. Ma grips Tonya’s hand tight with one her own, and holds a glass in her other.

“Can the captain live with us, when Papa brings her back?” Tonya asks. “I’ll share my room, I promise.”

Her mother looks down at her and doesn’t answer. She swallows her drink and takes her back into the house, pulling hard on her arm.

It’s a late at night, weeks later, when Howard finally comes home. Tonya hears the slamming of car doors and the familiar murmur of his voice, and grabs Captain to go investigate, eager as Christmas morning. She follows the sound of raised voices to her father’s study and lays by the door, the press of carpet comforting against her face. She can see feet moving, her father’s familiar Oxfords and her mother’s pointed heels. 

“It’s too much money…useless trips to the North Pole…” Her mother’s voice is muffled, angry. Tonya holds the Captain closer; she hates it when papa and ma fight, but she wants to hear. Hiding won’t make the fight not happen.

“It’s not your money… no right to say how I spend it.” Papa’s voice is the quiet kind of angry.

“You can’t keep… go hunting another woman. What will people…”

“I don’t give a damn about people!” Tonya jumps at the noise, punctuated by the familiar bang of Papa’s ring hitting his desk. “And I don’t give a damn about what you think.”

Tonya hears the far door open and slam shut. She stays put, and watches her father’s shoes pace back and forth, restless. She’s not supposed to bother papa when he’s in his study, and she’s definitely not supposed to bother him when he’s angry, but she wants to know about the Captain. She hugs her Captain close, and pushes the door open.

Papa turns as Tonya enters, sudden and stiff.

“Go to bed.” He says, and walks over to his desk to refill his glass.

“Yes, sir.” Tonya says. “Welcome back, papa.”

He sinks onto his desk, spinning the heavy crystal glass in his hands. It sends little rainbows around the room. 

“Thank you, Tonya,” he says. “Now go back to bed.”

“Did you bring the Captain with you?” Tonya asks. Papa stiffens, so Tonya knows he’s angry, she did something wrong, but she doesn’t know what.

“What?” he finally says.

“You…you were looking for your Captain.” Tonya says. “I told Ma, she can stay in my room, if you want. I don’t mind.”

Papa drains his glass. “God, kid, no. No, I didn’t bring Cap back.”

“Oh, okay,” Tonya says, and tries to hide her disappointment. “Did you look real hard?”

“Yeah, I looked hard.” Papa says, and he’s really angry now, and staring at her, and Papa almost never looks at her. “I’ve been looking for thirty years, but I can’t find her, and even if I did, she couldn’t stay in your room, because she’s dead. I’m looking for her corpse, kid, so that we can bury her and give her a proper funeral and so Peggy won’t have to…God.” He closes his eyes, and flings the glass. Tonya flinches as it shatters against the wall, and holds the Captain in front of her face. “Now get the hell out of here.”

Tonya runs back to her room. It’s not until she’s under the covers, safe, that she realizes that her cheek is bleeding. She throws the Captain across the room. A doll can’t protect anyone. 

*****

Tonya escapes from Nick Fury, but by the time she lands on the battered remains of Stark tower, she can barely fly straight. There are armor repairs that need to be done, and holy crap, does she need to call Pepper, properly this time, but first things first. 

“JARVIS?” Tonya calls out, and collapses on the couch.

“Yes, sir.” The robot responds. Tonya’s so, so glad she had the couches reinforced so that she can lie on them while still armored. She hits the release button and the armor falls off, and Christ that feels good, like the feeling of taking off ski boots times a hundred. “Ms. Potts has called you a number of times. She left messages.”

“Oh, great.” Tonya says. “Can you, like, analyze emotional content? Scan keywords and tone.”

“There’s no need for that, sir.” JARVIS responds. “It is apparent that the primary emotional content is anger. Followed by relief.”

“Thank you, JARVIS.” Tonya says. God, what a waste that Pepper didn’t like women. (“Not everyone is bisexual, Tonya,” she had said, the 30th time Tonya had asked her out. “Yes. Yes they are. Some people are just unimaginative,” Tonya had replied, and Pepper hadn’t spoken to her for a week.)

“Save those for the morning, I’ve got another task for you.” Tonya says. “Priority one.”

“Yes, sir.” JARVIS says, and Tonya doesn’t think a robot can snap to attention, but if JARVIS can, he does. “What do you need? Painkillers? A new arc reactor core? Your vital signs indicate that you require....”

“No, no.” Tonya waves an ungauntleted hand. “Much more important. Captain America is going to be stopping by the house at some point, and I need you to find my old Captain doll and hide it somewhere that she will never, ever find it.”

There is a familiar pause that means that her AI is judging her. Honestly, if she ever has to replace JARVIS, she’ll build one maybe 15 IQ points dumber.

“Very well, sir.” 

“Thank you, JARVIS.” Tonya says, and promptly falls asleep on the couch.

 

The captain doesn’t take her up on the offer until the next week, after they’ve sent Loki packing to Asgard. (Tonya can’t say that she’s sorry to see him go, but she’ll miss Thor, that guy was a hoot. Even if he did call her ‘the Iron Maiden,’ and, hey, she loves that band too, but there’s a reason she didn’t pick that name. Mostly that she doesn’t want to sound like a torture device, it didn’t seem right, considering.) 

Bruce is also working in the lab, but bless his heart, he doesn’t say anything when Tonya runs through the lab in a frenzy, pulling on a shirt and lipstick, picking up some of the accumulated dishes and laundry (you wouldn’t think that laundry would get into the lab, but it does) and having JARVIS tuck them into storage panels. Tonya just has time to sit in her chair, arrange a nonchalant pose, and shoot Bruce a dirty look in reply to his knowing smirk before Captain America walks in.

She’s out of costume, and Tonya would mourn the loss of the tight spandex, but really it’s not hurting Cap, she looks powerful and graceful in a button-down blouse and high-waisted pants. Her hair’s short, curling gently around her ears, and Tonya briefly considers writing a letter to Mattel or Hasbro or whoever made her Captain doll, because they got the hair all wrong.  
“Captain!” She beams. “Welcome to the tower. I hope you found it okay, I know it looks different when it’s not covered in Chitauri.”

“No, no problem, Miss Stark.” Cap says.

“Oh god, call me Tonya, please.” Tonya says. “Or Ms. at least, Miss makes me feel like a sixteen-year-old. Wait, do you even know about Ms.? I think it started being used in the 70’s…”

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Stella interrupts her rambling. “But your…voice…let me in.”

“Oh, that’s JARVIS, don’t worry about it, he freaks out people who aren’t from the 40’s too. He’s an artificial intelligence. Like a robot, kind of.”

“Ah,” Stella says, and notices Bruce in the corner. “Dr. Banner, it’s good to see you again. Mr. Fury told me that you were staying in New York for a while.”

“That’s the plan. Barring…complications,” Bruce says. There have been no Other-Guy related incidents since the Chitauri battle, despite some vigorous testing. For science, or course. (It turns out, Bruce is a great tester. Tonya will have to test him recreationally, at some point.)

“Is there something I can do for you, Cap?” Tonya asks. She’s not sure why she gave Stella the open invitation, anyway. They don’t have much of a relationship, other than a misguided sense of hero worship on her part, and somewhat grudging respect on the Captain’s.

“As a matter of fact, there is.” Stella says. “It’s actually... kind of private. Is there somewhere else we can talk?” 

“Um, sure.” Tonya says, and slides out of her chair. “The lounge is right through here…” She steers Captain America out of the lab. She judiciously avoided Bruce’s look as she left the lab, God, if Captain America was asking her on a date, she was never going to live it down. Tonya settled on one of the less dented couches.

“What can I do for you, Captain? I should let you know, I don’t have a problem dating women, but I try not to date the people I work with. Or did Fury finally fire me, and sent you to break the news gently?

“I’m not asking you out, or firing you,” Stella said, firmly. Well, so much for that idea, she should’ve known better than to think the Star-Spangled Gal would swing that way, whatever the more sordid biographies and that Carter woman said.  
“I actually wanted to ask you a favor.”

“Go right ahead, Cap, I’ll see what I can do for you. But I should let you know, I can’t spend more than $100,000, Pepper would kill me.”

“I don’t need your money.” Stella said, blushing, God it was adorable and kill me now. “I need you to show me around the city.

“I’ve been out a few times, sat in the park, went to a café, things like that,” Stella says. “But it’s harder to get around, than it was, and I thought you could, I dunno, show me the ropes.”

Well, that was a lot of big build up for nothing, Tonya thinks. She’s about to say something snide when it strikes her – what it must be like, to spend your entire life proving that you are capable, that you deserve to be taken seriously, that you are independent and self-reliant and a million other things people take for granted in a man. How it must feel, then, to be sent to a world you don’t understand, one where you’re not sure how to ride the subway or hail a cab or order lunch. She knew that Cap was brave, but this is above and beyond. (Plus, seriously, stop the presses, Tonya’s being empathetic, they should throw a parade.)

“Sure, Cap.” Tonya says. “I do great tours of the city, you know, way better than those awful double-decker buses, just let me get dressed, properly…”

Stella smiles, and Tonya swears she isn’t getting a warm and glowing feeling in her chest, it’s just the arc reactor recalibrating or something.

 

Tonya decides to take it easy on her, so they start small, heading down through the mostly-repaired Grand Central and taking the 4. Tonya buys Stella an unlimited Metrocard (not unlimited for the month at the machines, an actual, proper unlimited, don’t bother asking, they only sell them to billionaires) and they head through the turnstiles. Stella has issues getting the timing of the swipe down (it’s walking pace! Walking pace!) but honestly, Tonya’s seen tourists do worse. The train ride is uneventful, until they switch to the N at 59th and Tonya lets it slip that not only did the Dodgers move to Los Angeles, but Tonya is also a part-owner of the Yankees (“But, Tonya, they’re evil.” Stella pleads. “They’re the team for rich jerks who don’t mind buying their way to victory.” “Well, hello, perfect,” Tonya says). Fortunately, when they exit at 5th, Tonya’s able to distract her with the Plaza Hotel and the glass box of the Apple store.

“See, the subway hasn’t changed that much,” Tonya says as she steers them towards the park, “and Central Park’s more or less the same, I guess. More tourists, maybe.”

“More everything,” Stella says. They’re stymied when Stella passes the Strand tables piled high with books, and Stella’s drawn to it like a magnet. She pulls out a copy of Kurt Vonnegut and flips to the back. “Is $7 normal for a book now?”

“More or less,” Tonya says. “Amazon’s cheaper though.” She runs her fingers along the spines of the books, stopping occasionally to pull out something that looks interesting or that she’s seen Rhodey read, somewhere. Tonya should read more, really, but she should also upgrade the targeting system in the Mark VIII and quit drinking, so, you know, what can you do. Her fingers stop at a copy of Kavalier and Clay, she picks it up and waves it towards Cap.

“Hey, Stella, you should check this one out…” Tonya says, and turns around, but Stella’s not paying attention, she’s deep in a hardcover, large hands covering the title. “What’re you reading?”

“Nothing!” Stella says, and drops the book guiltily; Tonya reaches out and snatches it before Stella can interfere. The title reads America’s Amazon: The Unauthorized Story of Stella Rogers, words arranged around a propaganda drawing of a Stella in a short skirt, throwing both a salute and a wink at the camera. 

“You don’t want to read this one, Cap.” Tonya says, and throws it back on the pile.   
“David McCullough did a much better one a few years back, way more research, this doesn’t even get your birthday right, and says you grew up in Jersey. Jersey.” Tonya snorts.

“You, um, seem to know a lot about my biographies.” Stella says with a smile, and oh, Cap knows how to be snarky, what a huge mistake.

“Well, um, a bit…” Tonya stutters, playing it cool. “I may have read a couple. When I was younger. For research.”

“Research. Right.” Stella says, with that same smile, and really just leave Tonya to die now, she picks up Kavalier and Clay and holds it in front of her like a shield. “You should read this, it’s good. Better than that.”

Stella picks up the unauthorized biography again, and looks at the cover. “I used to hate that outfit. They’d make me do stage shows in it, back before they let me fight.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s terrible. Terrible.” Tonya says, and does not mention that she had that very same poster on her wall for maybe ten years; she does have some self-preservation instincts, thanks. “You didn’t like it? The stage-girl thing?”

“I hated it. I wanted to fight, to do something meaningful, and they stuck me in a wig.” Stella shakes her head. “I was the only result of Erskine’s work, his life’s work, and they had me dancing in front of the troops, shilling bonds, wearing a padded bra. They would never have let me go at all, if I didn’t get Howard and Peggy to drop me behind enemy lines.” She smiles, but it’s a quiet, sad kind of smile. “You should’ve seen their faces, when I came marching back into camp with Bucky and the men, wearing trousers and a leather jacket, carrying that stupid prop shield.”

“It sounds amazing,” Tonya says. She wonders what she’s missing, Bucky or Peggy or the purpose of the war, or, god, even Howard. It’s selfish, but she hopes she isn’t missing Howard, that Tonya’s not just there as a substitute.

Stella nods, and puts the book back on the pile. Tonya snatches it up.

“Here, I’ll buy it for you,” Tonya says, and adds it to her pile. 

“Tonya, you don’t have to do that…” Stella says.

“No, no problem. You can read it, and drink every time they get something wrong! It’ll be fun.”

“I can’t get drunk, actually,” Stella says. “It’s the serum.”

“My God, that’s terrible, we’ve got to work on that,” Tonya replies, and hands the pile to the cashier. “Well, we can write angry corrections to the editor, then.”

 

They make it up to the obelisk before they decide to turn back, wandering through the winding paths of the park. Tonya hails a cab so she can give Stella an overview on what the lights on top mean, and Stella leans back against the window, watching the people of New York walk by. Tonya takes the opportunity to, not stare, but observe. 

With her short hair and muscles, she’s more butch than Tonya ever imagined, far more masculine than her pin-ups and movies ever made her out to be. Tonya watches her face light up as the cab turns onto Park and Stark Tower rises over them like a beacon. She imagines the man whose job it was to take Stella and stick her in a girdle and heels, who looked at Stella and said “Now that there’s a girl that needs to be dolled up.” Tonya thinks he must have been a lunatic.

*****

Tonya is dangerously close to being content. She’s got Bruce down the hall, for all-hours science experiments (and other experiments, Tonya can’t remember the last time she had a live-in fuck buddy, it’s awesome). Pepper’s running the company, so Tonya doesn’t have to do CEO things, and she’s been nicer than usual, in light of the “almost killing yourself to save the eastern seaboard” thing. Thor, Natasha and Clint are out in the southwest, working on some super-secret SHIELD Bifrost initiative, but they’re keeping in touch, and Stella’s planning some kind of group dinner. Stella’s stopping by more often, too, hanging around the lab making friends with the robots and taking Tonya on long subway trips out into Brooklyn. Tonya doesn’t do content, dissatisfaction is fuel for the arc reactor, but sitting on the balcony of the tower, firing repulsor blasts into the distance as Bruce writes in his notebook and Stella reads American Amazon, it’s pretty close.

“I can’t believe this.” Stella says. Tonya can’t believe that Stella found such a great selection of high-waisted pants, but, hey, nobody asked her. “The book makes it out like Bucky and I were…sordid lovers.”

“Well, you have to admit, the movies did push the romance angle.” Bruce says, still writing in his Moleskine.

“You’ve seen the Captain America movies?” Stella flushes, and it’s really not getting any less cute with time. “I hoped everyone would’ve forgotten about those.”

“Not Tonya. She watches them all the time,” Bruce says, the traitor. 

“Please, they’re always on late-night cable, and I’m an insomniac. It’s just a coincidence,” Tonya says. “But you and Bucky, you never dated?”

“No, not, not really,” Stella says. “We went on a couple dates when we were kids, you know, but it never felt right. We were like brother and sister. And then, in the war, I met…” She trails off, and Tonya’s gut clenches at the thought of whose name might fill that hole. “What’s that over there?” Stella asks, gesturing over the balcony, and Tonya’s about to mock her for her shitty diversionary tactics when Bruce gets up to investigate.

“It looks like a bunch of people in Bryant Park,” Bruce says. “It must be some event.”

“Oh yeah, the film thing, that’s every summer,” Tonya says. “Tonight’s Psycho, if you’re interested.”

“Psycho?” Stella asks. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“Alright, now we’re definitely going.” Tonya strips off her repulsor and hops to her feet. “Bruce, you want to come?”

“No, thank you,” he says. “Jump scares and large crowds? Bad combination.”

 

It’s a short walk to the park, and Stella and Tonya are able to bypass the security line easily when Stella opens her shoulder bag and reveals her shield. They grab a seat in an empty table at the edge of the grass, and watch the groups of friends and families chatter.

“So, you a Hitchcock fan?” Tonya asks.

“You bet. I snuck into The 39 Steps with Bucky when it came out. And they used to screen Lifeboat on the army base,” Stella says. “I’m surprised people still watch his films though. Aren’t modern pictures so much…louder?”

Tonya smiles. Stella had walked in on Bruce and her watching The Mummy last week. It was a terrible introduction to 21st century cinema, but, hey, at least the bar was set low, and there was cool violence.

“Yeah, we’ve got special effects now, but you don’t need to be flashy to build suspense,” Tonya said.

“That’s not something I ever thought I’d hear you say.”

“What?”

“’You don’t need to be flashy.,” Stella says, and smiles. Tonya loses track of her snappy comeback. Stella’s secret weapon isn’t the serum, it’s that damn smile.

“I can do flash and substance both,” she says.

“Um, excuse me…” Tonya turns around in her chair, to find a short-haired teenage girl hovering, hesitant, around the perimeter of their table. “Are you, are you Tonya Stark?” she finally asks. “And, Captain America?”

“Yup,” Tonya answers. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh! Nothing!” she replies. “I just wanted to, to thank you. Both of you, for what you did. My mom works on 42nd and Lex, so… Anyway, thank you.” She finally meets Tonya’s eye. “You’re my hero, really.”

For once, Tonya has no idea what to say. Fortunately Stella has more experience dealing with fans.

“There’s no need to thank us,” Stella says, gentle. “We’re just glad we were able to help your mom. It means a lot, to hear that.”

“I…thanks, I wish I had something…Oh, wait.” She digs into her plastic bag, and Tonya tenses and wonders if this wasn’t a very long set up for another kidnapping attempt. It’s not a gun she reveals, but Tupperware. “I made some cupcakes, for the movie, but here, you should take one.” She holds out one chocolate frosted cupcake to Stella, and one to Tonya.

“Thank you,” Tonya eventually says, and the girl blushes again, God, and makes her way through the field to some friends on a blanket. Tonya and Stella watch her go.

“That was sweet,” Stella says.

“Oh, yeah, very,” Tonya says, and puts the cupcake down on the table. “Consider me officially heartwarmed.”

She can feel Stella looking at her, so she reaches into her purse and pulls out a pair of sunglasses. It won’t do to have anyone else recognizing her and coming up with baked goods.

“You don’t get thanked very often, do you?” Stella asks, and dammit does Tonya not want to have this conversation. She looks for a change of subject, an escape route, anything.

“Did you ever have sex with my dad?” Tonya asks. And wow, subconscious, good work with that.

Stella drops her cupcake on the ground. “No, Tonya. God, no,” She finally answers.

“That’s good.” Tonya says. “Wait, ‘God, no?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean…we were friends,” Stella says. “But I never had feelings for him. He used to flirt with me, constantly, the way he flirted with everyone else. Even when I was sitting in that metal box, about to get dosed with Erskine’s serum.” She shakes her head, fond. “But that stopped, once he flew me to rescue Bucky. It was nice. He was one of the first to treat me like a soldier, like an equal. Well, Howard never treated anyone like his equal…” She pauses. “I don’t know what Howard was like, when you knew him. But he was a good friend to me. But I wasn’t…interested.”

“Because of someone else?” Tonya asks. Well, pries, if she’s being honest.

“Yes,” Stella answers, but the expression on her face is wistful and sad. Tonya backs off.

“Well, I’m glad. You deserved better than my dad,” Tonya says. “He may have been a good friend, but trust me, he was a lousy husband.” And father goes unsaid, Tonya refuses to have daddy issues, it’s unseemly. “Go on, take my cupcake. They do a cartoon before the movie. Can’t watch cartoons without a sugar high.”

Stella picks takes a bite of the cupcake and passes it to Tonya. “Let’s split it, it’s good,” Stella says. Tonya takes it, and sits back as the familiar Looney Tunes music starts up.

“Oh! Bugs Bunny!” Stella says, enthused. “I love him!”

 

Fortunately, Stella loves Psycho as much as she loves the Looney Tunes – she doesn’t talk through movies, like Tonya does, and she jumps at all the right places. She nearly hits Tonya in the nose when Janet Leigh gets stabbed in the shower, with her shocked flailing. Tonya knows to stay on guard when Arbogast is pushed down the stairs, and is able to dodge another arm. Watching her is more fun that watching the film, seeing the open emotion across her face. Tonya does not mind that she is jaded; she treasures it. It keeps her safe, as much as the armor does. But watching Stella, it makes her feel young. It makes her feel…

Tonya is blown out of her seat by a focused explosion. She lands, hard, on the nearby grass, just missing some other audience members on a towel. 

“Cap!” Tonya shouts, and tries to get her feet under her. Her side’s aching already, and the armor’s blocks away at the tower, the bracelets don’t work over this range. She hopes Stella is more prepared. She also hopes Stella isn’t a smoking crater in the ground.

“Tonya, stay down!” Stella shouts, thank God, and the familiar blur of the shield goes flying over Tonya’s head to embed itself in a rather large robot. Tonya hunches over and runs to get behind the cover of a stone planter, as the audience begins to panic and flee. Damn, out of the suit, she’s not even good for crowd control, and people are going to get trampled. 

Tonya can get a good look at the robot at Cap launches herself at it, grabs her shield back, and gracefully rolls behind cover. It’s not one of hers, at least, but it looks familiar…

“Tonya Stark!” comes a voice from inside the robot, and, well, shit, Tonya definitely knows that voice. “Stop cowering and fight me!”

“Justin Hammer!” Tonya retorts. “Where’d you get your suit, Radio Shack?”

The planter rocks with an explosion. She’s not usually one to give up witty banter, but it would be much easier if she had her damn suit. Not that she doesn’t trust Cap to take care of it, she was a one-woman army against the Chitauri, but Hammer is officially Tonya’s problem, and Tonya should be able to deal with him without putting other people in danger. 

Speak of the devil, Cap goes flying over the planter and lands at Tonya’s side. 

“You know this joker?” Stella asks.

“He’s a ‘competitor’ of mine,” Tonya says, air quotes and all. “His armor’s crap, though, the metal’s already buckling on the right leg, see?”

Stella scans the robot with soldier’s precision, and nods. “Do you have your suit with you?” she asks, and Tonya shakes her head.

“You can call Bruce, can’t you?” Stella asks. “Ask him to bring it to you?”

“Not a bad idea,” Tonya says, and digs out her phone. “He’s seen the commotion already, I’m sure.”

“Good,” Stella nods, and puts on her Captain voice. “You stay out of sight until you’re suited up. I can deal with this.”

“Yessir, ma’am.” Tonya answers as Stella rolls away and sends her shield flying in a low arc to strike the robot’s right leg. Tonya dials Bruce’s number and scans the park as the phone rings. Most of the crowd has fled, but Hammer’s already brought down some rubble, and some good Samaritans have stayed to help the people buried. 

“Tonya!” Bruce’s voice fills her ear, and she remembers the phone in her hand. “Tonya, what’s going on?”

“Hammer, armor, no reason to get your blood pressure up,” Tonya says. “Though I’d be obliged if you could bring me my suitcase armor. If you’re not too busy.”

“Already on my way,” Bruce says, and Tonya hears his controlled panting. He’s running, then. “Where are you?”

“Hiding at the front of the square, currently. Follow the sound of my high-pitched shrieks,” Tonya says, and the good Samaritans have gotten nearly everyone out from under the rubble. Tonya sees the cupcake girl there, helping an older man limp away. Only, Hammer’s noticed them as potential targets, good hostages, at the very least, and turns to target them. Stella’s across the field, getting the height to launch herself at the armor from above, and won’t get there in time. 

“Sorry Bruce, got to run,” she says, and hangs up. “Hey, Justin!” she shouts, and runs out from behind the planter. He doesn’t notice her, the incompetent jackass.

“Justin!” she shouts, and waves her arms. She should be easy for Bruce to find now, at least.

The robot finally turns away from cupcake girl, who moves, slowly, towards the shelter of the subway station.

“If you want me, Hammer-time, you gotta come get me!” Tonya says. The armor takes a wobbling step towards her, and levels his guns.

“Come on, you need all that armor to fight a girl?” Tonya says, and, yeah it’s a shitty taunt, but she’ll do what works. “Seriously, I’m in heels and pantyhose.”

“Giving up easy, Tonya?” Hammer says, and he’s gloating, good. He’s the type of asshole who would monologue, if he could. “I’m not surprised, based on what the tabloids say.”

The left-arm gun glows with energy, and the engineer in Tonya rolls her eyes that it has such an obvious tell, but she’s happy for it now. There’s not much cover nearby, but she tenses, prepares to dodge. 

“Tonya!” she hears Cap shout, and the super-soldier flings herself towards the robot’s arm, striking down with her shield. Tonya dives, and the beam strikes the ground beside her. Tonya hits the ground and rolls, okay, tumbles, dirt grinding into her newly-burned side. 

She bites off a scream, the burn’s not bad, there’s no need to fuss, and turns over to watch Stella grapple with the armor. Cap wedges her shield into a piece of plating and wrenches it off the robot, sticks her hand into the exposed wiring and pulls something that looks important loose. Sparks fly and Stella jumps free, springing to the ground graceful as a cat, as the armor staggers and collapses. Tonya’s chest tightens and it’s hard to breathe, but she can’t lie and blame it on the arc reactor this time. Stella’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

 

Tonya deals with her feelings the way that all well-adjusted people do, by locking herself in her lab and trying to increase the range on her bracelet-armor. Bruce had shown up a couple seconds after Stella brought Hammer down, not bad response time, but you can’t count on other people; that’s what machines are for. Her side aches and burns. Stella had suggested spending the night in the hospital, and no way is that happening.

“Tonya?” Tonya jumps at the sudden sound of Stella’s voice, and, ow, bad idea. 

“What’s up, Cap?” Tonya turns, gingerly, to face her.

“I just wanted to check in on you,” Stella says. “You got pretty beat up, out there.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it…” Tonya says, but her side choses that moment to ache, again, and she hisses.

“I know you don’t want to go to the hospital, but let me take a look, at least,” Stella says, starting towards her. “Burns can get pretty nasty, when they aren’t dealt with.” Stella looks like she speaks from personal experience, so Tonya acquiesces.

“The first aid kit’s in the bathroom, under the sink,” Tonya says.

“Okay, don’t move.” Stella runs off it get it, eager as a puppy. 

Tonya pulls her shirt over her shirt over her head, careful not to scrape her side or wrench her shoulder. The back of her bra lies across the burn, so she removes it too, slowly.

Stella comes back into the room. “This is a heavy-duty kit, Tonya, you’d think…” She trails off, so Tonya turns to face her and damn, she actually forgot, fuck. She reaches and picks her bloody shirt off the ground, and holds it in front of her chest.

“It looks worse than it is,” Tonya says. Sometimes, she forgets how it must look from the outside: the arc reactor, the scarring around her chest, and the hole where her left breast used to be. It’s not often, though.

“I never, you…” Stella says, and damn it, this is that part that Tonya hates the worst. The pity. She waits for Stella to get that look in her eyes, the look she’s named the “oh you poor incomplete woman” look, in her less charitable moments. Instead, Stella shakes her head, and she’s back to business, that mix between soldier and fussing mother. “Here, raise your arms. I’ve got to disinfect everything. And drop that shirt, it’s filthy, you can’t have it near your wounds.”

Tonya follows orders, for once, and Stella draws a seat up to her side. She dabs the disinfectant on, slow and gentle. Tonya tries not to lean into her touch.

“That was an incredibly stupid thing you did,” Stella says, still intent on her work.

“Hammer was ignoring me, and I had some good one-liners saved up. I didn’t even get to the Dr. Horrible references…”

“I’m serious, Tonya.”

“When are you ever not serious, Cap?”

Stella huffs, and raises her eyes. Her eyelashes are long and pale blond, almost invisible. “I have to be, Tonya, because you don’t take anything seriously. You didn’t bring your suit, or any combat gear...”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Tonya spits. She was stupid, it was her fault that Hammer was there in the first place, and it nearly got people killed, she doesn’t need Cap to tell her. “It won’t happen again.”

“You didn’t have your armor, he could’ve...”  
“I know!” He could have hurt those people, could have destroyed more of the city, her city. Tonya pulls away from Stella, and picks up her shirt.   
“Just because I’m not like you, doesn’t mean I’m not capable.”

“I know you’re capable—” Stella grabs her by the wrist, gently, like Tonya’s something delicate, God. “—but you’re reckless. And I’m not finished bandaging you.”

Tonya huffs, and sits back down. Stella picks up sheets of gauze and lays them across her side, taping them into place as she goes.

“There,” she says, and leans back, but her hand stays on Tonya’s waist. “It’s done.”

“Thank you,” Tonya says. Her side does feel better. And what feels even better than that is the fact that Stella’s so close to her, Tonya can see the pale scattering of freckles across her slightly dented nose.

“I…I…” Stella starts. Her eyes are incredibly blue, really, they should sell paint that color, Tonya would redo the tower. Stella leans forward, and Tonya’s heart starts to pound, she’s, what, 25? So Tonya is a cradle robber, but she can’t seem to care.

Stella snaps back, like a rubber band. “I think I should give you self-defense lessons.”

“What?” Tonya says. 

“Self defense. So you could deal with attacks, outside your armor.”

“Oh, sure. Great idea,” Tonya says. Well, that wasn’t exactly what she expected.

“You should cut your hair short, you know,” Stella says. “It’s a perfect handhold for enemies in a fight.”

“Natasha’s got long hair,” Tonya replies.

“Natasha is better than you.” Stella says, and stands up. “I’ll stop by early tomorrow. We’ll take it slow.”

“Um…all right,” Tonya says. “See you tomorrow.” She watches Stella leave. 

“JARVIS?” she says, once she’s sure the super soldier is gone.

“Yes, sir?”

“She was gonna kiss me, right? I wasn’t hallucinating that bit?”

“I am not quite sure, sir. Some human emotions are more difficult to read than others.”

“Ah, you’re useless.” Tonya waves her hand. “Bring up some Black Sabbath.”

The opening strains of War Pigs fill the lab, and Tonya wonders if there isn’t more to the rumors than she originally thought.

*****

True to her word, Cap shows up at the tower at 7 the next morning in workout gear and sneakers.

“I think we should start with something low impact,” she says, as Tonya struggles to tie her shoelaces, it’s way too early for this. “How about a jog along the East River?”

Tonya manages to keep it up for a few days, and then Bruce joins them because he actually enjoys physical exercise, like some kind of lunatic. Stella moves on to combat training and self-defense, and Clint and Natasha, back from the desert wastes, start to join in. Tonya would resent it more if Stella wasn’t such a patient, enthusiastic fitness instructor, like a way less flamboyant Richard Simmons. Even Thor comes to spar, occasionally, but he’s so far out of her weight class that she doesn’t even bother facing him.

“Come, Captain!” Thor bellows. “Show me another of your wonderful ‘holds’, it is a most useful technique.”

Tonya can’t help but stop and watch while Stella grabs Thor and pivots, sending him flying across the room. Bruce takes advantage of Tonya’s distraction to knock her feet out from under her and sweep her to the ground.

“Gotcha,” Bruce says.

“Not for long, Tinkerbell,” Tonya says, climbing to her feet. Cap has them sparring together a lot lately, she said that if Bruce can put up with Tonya in combat without Hulking out, he can put up with anything. Tonya takes her duty seriously.

“C’mon, I’ve met toddlers that hit harder than you,” she says, and gets into position.

“I’m not supposed to hit hard,” he says. “It’s Tai Chi.”

“It’s hippie bullcrap,” Tonya says, and throws a boxer’s punch. Cap wants her doing functional, low-strength self defense, which is a good idea, but hey, Tonya likes to box.

“It’s all about managing your own energy and keeping calm, using your opponent’s force against them, to bring them down.” He deflects her strike and slides, smoothly, throwing her off balance. She falls into him, and they hit the mat.

 

“So, you’re saying it’s not the size of the boat, it’s the motion of the ocean?” Tonya smirks, and Bruce rolls his eyes. She lashes out at his ankle and he loses his balance and pitches over. Fortunately, he breaks his fall by landing on Tonya.

“Sorry…” Bruce says, and tries to stand, but Tonya’s not one to let a situation like this pass her by.

“No, we should stay like this. Work on some cardio.” She winks and gooses him, he responds with a not-particularly-manly yelp.

“Tonya.” Cap sounds peeved, Tonya looks up and finds Stella looming over her. “I asked you to spar with Bruce.” Bruce begins to sheepishly disentangle himself.

“Jealous, Cap?” Tonya says, trying her hardest to look dashing while upside-down. “Care to join us?”

Stella’s eyes narrow. “Clint, you and Tonya team up this round.”

“No, no, that doesn’t work.” Tonya climbs to her feet, ignoring a twinge of objection on her side. “We both try to do one-liners, there’s no set-up, it’s a mess, I need a straight man.”

“I think that’s the idea.” Clint says, rewrapping his wrists. “And who said I wasn’t a straight man?”

Tonya groans and throws the first punch. Clint slides out of the way easily.  
“C’mon, Stark, you know you like having me around.”

A loud crash comes from the corner; Tonya and Clint turn to see that Thor has managed to fell an elliptical.

“Apologies, friends!” he says. “My sweat-pants became entangled with this running device.” Clint laughs and runs over to help Natasha untangle Thor from the machine, he looks seconds from smashing it with Mjolnir.

“You know what, I think I actually do.” Tonya says.

 

“What’s this?” Bruce asks. The workout’s over and Bruce’s fresh from his shower. He rubs a towel over his soggy curls.

“You shouldn’t towel-dry curls, they get frizzy.” Tonya looks up from her computer. “And it’s blueprints. For expanding the Tower. Except they aren’t blue, really, or prints, because digital, duh, so I might need to come up with a different name for that.”

“Expansions?” Bruce asks, and with a gesture, pulls up what she’s been working on to examine it closer. He shouldn’t be able to do that, for security reasons, but JARVIS is a pushover for Bruce, the two of them have been making Skynet jokes all week, honestly, it’s sickening. “Are you building new housing?”

“Um, yeah. I had the idea during Cap’s patented workout routine. It’s for the rest of the Avengers Initiative,” Tonya says, and fans out the files across the room with a wave. “Well, not Nick Fury, he’s not allowed in this clubhouse. He’s no fun and you know he would sabotage the chore chart to make sure he never had to clean the bathroom.”

“Tonya,” Bruce says, and it cuts through her babbling. “You did all this in six hours? Have you talked to any of the others about this?”

“Well, no, technically,” Tonya says. “But c’mon, you know Cap needs a place to stay, an actual place, not a room with a bed at SHIELD, and can you imagine Thor trying to rent an apartment?”

Bruce flips through the designs, and pauses at one. “Is this, is this a floor for me?”

“Yeah, do you like it? I figured, you’re already staying here, and no need for you to run down to R+D all hours of the night, I’ll just build you your own lab.”

“Tonya…” Bruce said, mouth agape. Tonya never gets tired of surprising Bruce, it was trying to knock over one of those untippable Weeble toys. “Tonya, you know I can’t, I won’t be staying here permanently. It’s not safe for me to stay someplace with this population density, what I did to Harlem, I could do it to midtown…”

“Relax, Bruce,” Tonya says with a smile. “It’s not a marriage proposal. Just think of it as a home base, when you’re on the east coast.”

Bruce visibly relaxes, and Tonya swallows a sigh. They’ve been sleeping together for a while, but it’s hard to tell if it’s for fun or science, with Bruce. He’s almost as terrified of commitment as Tonya is, though, to be fair, he’s got far better reasons for it.

“Thank you, Tonya,” Bruce finally says. “It’s very thoughtful of you.”

“It’s nothing.” Tonya waves a hand, and the plans disappear. “I still have to ask Cap about Operation Sleepover, like you said.”

“She’ll love it,” Bruce says. “It’ll be easier for her to get us up at 4 AM to do aerobics drills if we’re all in one place.”

Tonya laughs. “I hadn’t considered that angle. JARVIS, add reinforced steel plating to Captain America’s door, make sure that it locks from the outside until at least 9.”

*****

Tonya emails the plans to Stella (which is always a gamble, with Stella, the girl’s picking technology up fast, but she’s still opening up emails from Nigerian princes). Stella offers to come by the next morning to discuss in greater detail, and Bruce has a date with Columbia University’s electron microscope, so Tonya settles in for a night of programming, fine whiskey, and sitting around without pants. 

But because Tonya knows the universe is out to get her, she’s not particularly surprised when she gets a call on her SHIELD communicator.

“It’s Stella,” Natasha says, as soon as Tonya picks up.

“Is she alright?” Tonya says, the bracelets are already on her wrists, she doesn’t need pants in the suit, really.

“She’s not hurt, but she ran out of here ten minutes ago,” Natasha rushes. “She seemed pretty upset about something. We think she’s coming to you.”

“Do you know what happened?” Tonya takes a breath, changes tactics, starts hunting for pants. “Did you do something…” Tonya trails off, Stella’s standing at the door of the lab. “Gotta go.” She closes the communicator. 

Stella looks terrible. There aren’t any obvious injuries, but the expression on her face is one Tonya’s never seen before. No, she has seen it, but only on Bruce. 

“What’s wrong?” Tonya says, and takes a step forward. If Stella were Pepper, Tonya’d be preparing snarky excuses, or moving in for a hug right now. But with Cap, she’s on more uncertain ground.

“Did you know about this?” Stella lifts the book in her hand—it’s American Amazon. “Did you know what it said?”

“What…I don’t… That book’s wrong all the time, Cap.” Tonya says, raising her hands, open and nonthreatening. “It’s not that big a deal…”

Stella cuts through her babbling with a voice like ice. “Did you know what it said about Peggy!” 

“Peggy…Peggy Carter?” Tonya tries to remember what it said, there must’ve been at least a reference to her, to the scandal. “I’m sorry, Stella. I know she was a friend…”

Stella is across the room in an instant, inches from Tonya, seething anger. Tonya fights the urge to step back. Stella raises the book, and for an instant, Tonya worries that she’s about to hit her with it. Instead, she hurls it across the room, sending it through something expensive and fragile. She stops, breathes deep, tries to get herself under control, and Tonya doesn’t know what’s wrong, what to do.

“She wasn’t my friend…” Stella says, and, oh God. There’s no way. 

“You and her were lovers. She was telling the truth,” Tonya says, eventually. “Peggy Carter was telling the truth.” 

Stella nods, and Tonya feels like shit, she should have thought of this, she should’ve been less of a complete asshole…

“Tell me what happened,” Stella croaks, and there are tears in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Stella, I didn’t know, I never…”

“Just tell me,” Stella says. “Please.”

Tonya doesn’t want to be the one to do this. But she owes Stella this much, at least.

“Well, Peggy, you know, after you, vanished, they kept it up, the whole publicity thing. She was famous, ‘Peggy Carter: Cap’s Sidekick,’ and all that. But she disappeared, for a while, did field work, and didn’t want the high profile to, you know, compromise her. I think she had a hand in starting SHIELD, you should ask Fury…” Tonya cuts herself off, there’s no need to drag this out, or put it off. 

“Well, the point is, she disappeared from public life for ages, no one heard from her, really, until ’88. When she called a press conference, and came out of the closet.” Tonya pauses. “Out of the closet, you know what that expression means?”

Stella nods, and Tonya continues.

“It was a different time, then. People weren’t, I mean, people now aren’t really, either, but it was a big deal. It would’ve been a big deal, even if she just came out herself. But she didn’t just say that she was gay. She said that you were gay, too, and that you had been in a relationship together.” Tonya pauses, and tries not to look at Stella, tries to give her some privacy. 

“They buried it. The news, they called her nuts, accused her of wanting attention, the military released all these documents, refuting what she said…nobody believed her.” Tonya, for one, was too busy being 17 and at MIT and drunk out of her mind to listen, too convinced that Captain America had been banging her dad, too convinced that Captain America could never be someone like her. 

“She lost her military pension, I think, and retired, she died, soon after that, I think. She’s got some family, a cousin, niece, something like that, who keeps the story going, it still makes the news, occasionally…” Tonya trails off. “I’m sorry, Stella.”

“It’s not right,” Stella says, eventually. Tonya wants to curl up under something and die. 

“No, it’s not.” Tonya replies.

“Is this why you’ve been making all those jokes? About, flirting with me?” Stella asks.

“No, no, God, no, I didn’t know, I didn’t think…” Tonya stumbles over herself in her haste, to make one thing right, at least. “I’m like that with everyone. They were just jokes,” she lies.

“Can I…is there some way, that I can see it?” Stella asks, hesitant, choosing each word. “The press conference. Is it loaded into your computer somewhere?”

“Yeah, it’s probably on YouTube, at least. JARVIS?” Tonya calls.

“I have found the video, sir,” JARVIS says, and Tonya pulls it up with a gesture.

The video is old, grainy, and only partial. Peggy must be past 70, but she does not waver in front of her microphone. Another woman, younger but still grey-haired, sits at her side. Everything below the waist is hidden by the table, but Tonya is fairly certain that they are holding hands.

“So why is it that you’ve decided to reveal this now, after all these years?” A reporter asks.

“I was afraid of what it would mean, for my career and for my personal life,” Peggy says, without hesitation “But I’m coming forward because I’m too old for secrets, now, and some truths are more important than security. And because I know it’s what Stella would’ve done.”

“Stop,” Stella says, and JARVIS pauses the recording.

“Are you...?” Tonya isn’t sure what to ask, even.

Stella nods. She’s not crying, which Tonya is grateful for. She doesn’t look like she’s about to Hulk out, either, which is good because Tonya can barely handle one of those. She looks sad, and fierce, and very much like Captain America.

“I’m going to fix this,” she says, finally. “We’re going to set this right.”

*****

Tonya gathers everyone at the tower, which is the closest thing to neutral ground they have. She figured if the meeting goes south and Stella decides to turn rogue and take down the American government, it’d be better not to be in SHIELD headquarters. Fortunately, it hasn’t reached that point yet, though there was a moment during Stella’s explanation where Bruce and Natasha looked like they might be considering it.

“This is awful, Rogers, really,” Clint says, and runs a hand through his hair. “But what do we do about it?”

“I go public,” Stella says. “We call a press conference, and I tell the truth.”

“You all are here because Stella thought you deserved to know first,” Tonya interjects. “But also, because we’re going to need to present a united front. If anyone has a problem with supporting Cap, speak up now. And then get the hell out of my house,” she adds.

“Christ, Stark, what kind of assholes do you think we are?” Clint says. “I’m in.”

“I do not understand the origins of this offense, brave Captain,” Thor says, “but know that your foes are my foes. I stand with you.”

“Of course, Stella,” Bruce says. 

“I’m with you,” Natasha says.

There’s a pause, and Tonya realizes that Stella is looking at her expectantly. 

“What, me?” Tonya says. “Of course I’m with you Stella, for anything, God, I called this clubhouse meeting in the first place…” 

“Thank you,” Stella replies, and hold’s Tonya’s eye for an instant longer before she turns to address the room. “Thank you, all of you. This means a lot to me, it’s something I never could’ve done, in my time. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“Do not speak of payment, Captain,” Thor says, waving an enormous hand. “We are allies. It is only right that we stand together, even off the field of battle.”

“What he said, only less stupid,” Clint says.

Tonya gets to her feet. “Well, if that’s everything, I have a media circus to plan.”   
“I’ll call you all before the conference,” Stella adds.

A sudden thought strikes her, as the other Avengers gather themselves to leave. “Oh, by the way, how do all you guys feel about moving into the tower with me?”

“Excuse me?” Natasha says.

“Here, see, I have blueprints. Well, they’re not really blue, or prints...” Tonya says.

 

The morning of the press conference, Tonya is settling her nerves by drinking coffee and retouching her makeup. She’s gone with the shade of lipstick that Pepper calls “sordid harlot” and a skirt tighter than a woman her age usually wears, hopefully it will make Stella look more wholesome by comparison. From the kitchen, it’s possible to see Bryant Park – the rubble’s been cleaned away but the field’s still missing grass and scarred with burns. She turns the other direction, it’s too early in the morning for guilt.

“Ms. Rogers is here, sir.” JARVIS announces, and Tonya rushes to the door.  
“You didn’t have to come up, the conference is down in the lobby.” Tonya says, opening the door.

“I know, I just thought…” Stella trails off, and Tonya nearly drops her coffee. Stella looks great – she’s wearing light makeup, which Tonya’s never seen her do before. Her outfit’s a tailored cream shirt with a brown leather bolero jacket over it, paired with tight brown slacks tucked into calf-length, low-heeled boots. She looks daring yet classic, practical yet feminine, and really, ridiculously attractive.

“You look like a cartoon pilot,” Tonya says, before she can force her mouth shut.

“Is…that a good thing?” Stella asks. “Miss Potts helped me pick it out.”

“Yes. Very, yes,” Tonya says, and starts to direct Stella back towards the elevator.

“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” Stella says, gesturing at herself. “I don’t really see the point.”

“Fashion is a weapon, Stella,” Tonya says. “People will always judge you on how you look, you might as well make it work for you.” Tonya’s left hand does not gravitate towards her chest, it says firmly at her side.

“I’d rather they judge me on what I do.”

“And I’d rather have a pet unicorn named Sprinkles. We can’t always get what we want.”

Tonya hustles Stella onto the elevator, and the doors slide shut behind them. Stark elevators are fast, but it’s a tall building, so Tonya has a chance to look Stella over. 

She’s pale, and her fingers are clenched against the handrail, turning white.

“Before, you came up to my floor, you wanted to talk to me?” Tonya says.

“Yes, I did. But it doesn’t matter, really…” Stella says, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Whatever it is, Cap, don’t be nervous.”

“Ms. Potts, she told me that you like women, too.”

“JARVIS, emergency stop.” The elevator grinds to a halt between the 15th and 16th floors.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Stella rushes, “don’t kick me out of your elevator.”

“What? No, I just did that because I got the feeling this conversation’s going to go a little long.” Not that Tonya hadn’t briefly considered calling the suit and punching her way out of the building to avoid this conversation. “Yes, Stella, Pepper is right, I’m bisexual. Well, pansexual, really, but we can get into that later.”

“I was hoping you’d tell me, if you don’t mind, what it was like for you. When you came out.” Stella’s words are careful and polite, and Tonya has to wonder if someone at SHIELD slipped her an educational pamphlet. 

“It was a long time ago, Stella. It’ll be different, for you.” It damn well better be different, Tonya thought, after all the time and money she’d spent on changing it. 

“The media likes you better, for one thing, Cap. You’re squeaky clean, you fought Nazis for chrissakes, and if there’s only one thing that everyone in America can agree on, it’s that Nazis were evil.”

“What will it be like for me, then?” Stella asks, weighing each word. “Afterwards.”  
Tonya sighs, taps a staccato rhythm against her arc reactor. 

“Some people will hate you,” she says, finally. “Not as many as there used to be, but they still exist, and they’ll be cruel and petty, say things behind your back or to your face, but the good news is that they’re assholes, so who cares what they think, anyway?

“There will also be people who don’t hate you, but who won’t understand, and they’ll make tired old jokes and laugh behind your back but not mean it, really, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“The media’s going to care. Even if they’re on your side, this is a big story for them, and you’re going to hear it over and over again on the news, broken down and analyzed and tweeted and autotuned until it’s lost anything resembling meaning. They’ll care, so they’ll watch you close, you’ll be living under a magnifying glass, and if they feel like it, they’ll tilt the thing and watch you burn.

“The thing is, though, that there will be people who watch you come out, and it will mean everything to them. It will make people’s lives better, and it may even save a few of them. And if there is anyone in the world who can deal with that pressure, that burden, it’s you. Because you’re Stella Rogers, and you’re already a role model.”

Stella nods, and for a minute looks 26 and 93 both. And Tonya wishes, viscerally, that she could keep this from her, leap on the publicity grenade, because she remembers what it’s like, to put yourself out there open and untempered, expecting the world to be decent.

“Besides, even if you can’t cut it, I have a fabulous publicist,” Tonya shrugs. “Seriously, I’ve had Pepper spin debauched parties into charity fundraisers, with no one the wiser. She’ll make you look like a saint.”

Stella laughs. “Thanks for the offer, Stark.”

“Any time.” Tonya jerks her thumb at the elevator door. “We should probably get going, Fury’s probably sending a SWAT team up here by now to make sure we’re not dead.”

“Oh, right. I’m ready,” Stella says.

“JARVIS, let’s go, double time!” Tonya claps her hands together.

 

The elevator whizzes to the ground floor, and opens on a rather exasperated-looking duo of Pepper and Fury. Tonya fights the panicked instinct to climb out the roof of the elevator and flee.

“Sorry we’re late, sorry, sorry,” she rushes out, running defense. “The humidity, my hair, you should’ve seen it, I looked like Cher in Moonstruck, it was awful…” Stella hustles along beside her.

“It’s not wise to keep these people waiting, Tonya,” Pepper says, as she steers them down the hallway.

“We have Thor keeping them occupied by with ‘tales of his valorous deeds,’” Fury says. “If any information on classified Asgardian tech slips out, Stark, I’m holding you responsible.”  
“Yeah, yeah, like you don’t have some Men In Black mind-wipey device you could use.”

Fury raises an eyebrow, and they reach the backroom before the stage. 

“Good luck, Captain,” he says. “Stark, try to keep your damn mouth shut, for once.” 

With a final glare and sweep of his duster, he ascends the steps to the stage. Pepper follows him, after wrapping Stella in a quick hug.

“Remember, I’ll be right back here,” Tonya says, reaching up to even out the lines of Stella’s jacket. “Just use the safe word and I’ll trip an EMP and blow a hole in the roof.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Stella says. “But I don’t think I’ll need it.”

“Okay, great, good.” Tonya smiles, and pulls her hands down. Stella gets most of the way up the steps, before she stops, and turns back.

“Tonya, what’s a safe word?”

“Um, I will explain that later!” Tonya leans forward, gently nudges her up the steps. “Press conference time now!”

“Ah, okay,” Stella says, and steps onto the stage, smiling and confident. 

She’s going to be fine, of course she is, there was no reason to worry, Tonya thinks. She’s Captain America. 

*****

Tonya isn’t one of those New York snobs that considers the rest of the States flyover country, really. There’s just certain places where she doesn’t understand why any self-respecting person would live there. Say, Minnesota.

“Seriously, Stella, it’s only June and it’s 200 degrees outside.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Stella says. She looks completely at ease in the obscene heat, rosy and sanguine and almost sickeningly wholesome. She made them stop at a lemonade stand along the way, and stayed for half an hour chatting with the 7-year-old kids who were running it. Tonya admires their entrepreneurial spirit, she still maintains they jacked the prices up when they recognized her as Tonya Stark, billionaire.

“No, I am not exaggerating, I am cooking.” Tonya joins Stella at the side of the car, examining the scrap of paper with an address on it. “My arc reactor’s overheating, I’m going to have a heart attack.”

Stella looks at the paper again, then scans the street. “It should be right here, this is Lincoln Street…”

“Are you sure you copied the number down right?” Tonya says, grabbing the paper away. Navigating without Google Maps is barbaric. “Is that a 6 or a 0?”

“It’s a 6!” Stella snaps. “Or, wait, maybe it is a zero…”

“If it’s a zero, that should be your house there.” Tonya gestures. It’s a cute place, painted cream and blue, with a garden out front pleasingly free of ceramic gnomes.

“Are you sure? Maybe she’s somewhere else…” Stella trails off.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.” Tonya says, and sets off towards the house.

“Tonya, wait!” Cap whisper-shouts, and catches up to her at the doorbell.

“C’mon, Cap, waiting won’t make this easier,” Tonya says.

“I know, but don’t just rush in there!” Stella hurriedly smooths down her hair and pulls down the edge of her blouse. She takes a large breath.

“You ready?”

“I’m ready.” Stella pushes the doorbell. Tonya hears the chime echo through the house, followed by the shuffle of someone heading to the door. 

It swings open to reveal a black woman in a gardening apron. She looks older than in the video, she must be nearly 90, but she’s got bright eyes and elaborately pinned hair. Tonya admires Peggy’s taste, she must’ve been beautiful when she was younger. 

“Ms. Hall.” Stella steps forward, and holds out her hand. “I’m Stella Rogers. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Ms. Hall looks Stella over, takes her hand, and pulls her into a crushing hug. “I’ve been expecting you.” She loosens the hug, and pulls her over the threshold. “Come in, both of you.”

The house is small, but homey, full of paintings and photographs and at least two Labradors.

“You’ve got a lovely home,” Tonya says, Stella still seems a little shell-shocked for pleasantries.

“Thank you, please, make yourself comfortable.” She gestures and runs into the kitchen, leaving Tonya to fight with a Labrador for possession of an armchair. Stella settles down on the couch, and consciously avoids Tonya’s gaze.

“Here you are,” Ms. Hall says, reappearing from the kitchen with a pitcher of cold tea and some ambiguously flavored cookies. “Sorry I didn’t have time to prepare anything more elaborate.”

“No, ma’am, this is great…” Stella stammers.

“Please, call me Cecilia,” she interjects. “You’re older than I am, anyway.”

Tonya snorts and covers it by pouring a glass of tea.

“Ms, Cecilia, I hope we aren’t bothering you. I didn’t mean to show up uninvited,” 

Stella says. She takes a cookie but doesn’t eat it, rather turns it over again and again in her hands.

“Not at all,” Cecilia says with a wave of her hand. “I feel like I’ve heard so much about you, you’re basically family.”

“I’m just glad I was able to set things right. For you, and Peggy.” Tonya is starting to feel excessively like a third wheel, so she stands and goes to examine a wall.

“I know I can never really make up for it…” Stella continues, and Tonya’s eye falls on a small photo, sitting loose on a desk. Judging from the hairstyles and multiple shades of orange being worn, it must be from the 60’s or 70’s.

Peggy and Cecilia stand on the edge of a dock, Peggy’s arm around Cecilia’s waist and Cecilia’s head on Peggy’s shoulder. They’ve got that look of quiet, domestic joy that Tonya never sees in photos of her own parents. Tonya flips it over to check the date, and finds a note scribbled on the back – “Hamptons, Summer 1969. Great picture of some great gals – Howard.” Tonya drops the photo onto the desk.

“Stella, what you did, it was very brave,” Cecilia says. “And I know Peg, if she were here, would’ve loved to see it.”

There’s too much emotion in the house, suddenly, and Tonya makes a dive for her phone. “Oh, damn, that’s, something important,” she says, loud enough to get their attention. “I’ve got to take this, thank you for the tea Ms. Hall I’ll be waiting outside, Stella?” 

Stella nods and Tonya slides out the door. She fiddles with her phone all the way back to the car, just in case they’re watching, and slips into the driver’s seat. It’s still stifling hot in the car, she turns the A/C up as high as it will go, and fiddles the radio to something loud. 

She doesn’t understand it, how Stella can have the whole world swept out from under her feet and pick herself back up again, live without being paralyzed by depression or desperate for approval. Maybe it’s liberating to have everyone who knew your failures and fuck-ups dead, to have the old you be forgotten. Tonya Stark believes in reinvention, she’s seen it firsthand, both ways, the worthless drunken party girl melted down, reforged in iron, and the good man, good friend, turned bitter and turned war-profiteer by what, exactly, Tonya doesn’t know because she never lets herself look close enough to figure it out.

There’s a knock on the window and Tonya jumps, but it’s only Stella. Her eyes seem a bit red and wet, but she’s not too worse for wear, and Tonya wouldn’t give her crap, not for that. She pops the lock, and Stella slides into the passenger seat.  
“Cecilia gave us some more cookies, for the road,” Stella says, holding up a brown paper bag. 

“Great,” Tonya says and pulls out of the parking space. She scans the suburban street once more. Stella wanted the visit to be paparazzi free so Tonya’s been as low-key as possible, but you never know when a kid with a Starkphone is going to show up and put a video of Captain America crying on YouTube. “Did you, you know, have good feelings?”

“I think I did,” Stella says. “And I couldn’t have done it without you, Tonya.”

Tonya scoffs. “I’m sure you could’ve found Minnesota on your own eventually, Cap. Even if your handwriting is terrible.”

Stella shakes her head and turns down the radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of my inspiration for Peggy and Stella's story came from reading "Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers," which is a fabulous history of the emergence of Lesbian identity in the 20th century. If that's a topic that interests you, definitely check it out.


End file.
